


In The Dust Of This Planet

by Littorella



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Drama & Romance, M/M, Philosophy, Politics, Slow Burn, Space Opera
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-02-22 21:43:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13175790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Littorella/pseuds/Littorella
Summary: Everyday villains like debt and political unrest return in the months after the last major battle on earth. A lot can change when there aren't world-ending threats to unite against. Superheroes no longer enjoy adoration and the Asgardians are caught in a refugee crisis.Loki and Tony Stark embark on an uncertain exploration to find a new planet to call Asgard.





	1. Crisis

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a faithful believer in staying in-character so this one may take a while...

Tony Stark found himself pouring another drink. He'd lost track of how many he'd had already, but then again, he was never trying to count. When the slight burn of alcohol hit the back of his throat, it occurred to him that he could barely feel it. It was as though his real body was replaced by a crappy prototype. Everything was one long nightmare to him nowadays, wake up, sit, drink, sleep, repeat. Days short, months long. Ever since…

_Pepper_

He downed his drink with purpose and tried to not think of her. She was gone. She was part of the universe's luminiferous ether now. He'd thought about joining her, but the cost of disposal was too high even for a man with no friends. _Because you're a coward, Tony Stark_. He slumped down on the couch and glanced at the blaring TV with only half-interest. A bit of his drink spilled on his sweatpants, but he barely noticed enough to care. It'd been days since he'd changed his clothes anyway.

The television droned on. "New York City is suing the Avengers superhero team amidst the municipal debt crisis. The bond market has responded accordingly."

A well-groomed man in navy was talking as blue tickers and and flashy graphics surrounded him. The screen switched to a thin, reed-like man, the mayor, behind a podium at a press conference. Flashes of photography interrupted intermittently. Tony was looking, but his glassy eyes could barely register the image.

"We are at a point of crisis," the mayor began, his voice heavy with resentment, "Our municipal debt has exceeded 50 billion. This public debt is insolvent and we have a duty to the people of this city. We thank the Avengers for all they have done, but they are responsible for the extensive property damage that has landed us in this crisis."

The TV flashed back to the news studio, this time on a balding man with wisps of hair and a ridiculous face. "I think they should pay!" he screeched, waving his hand madly, "If I break somebody's window, I have to pay. Why should these guys be different. Hey! Tony Stark, you gotta pay up buddy!"

Fucking Cramer and his crazy eyes…

Tony made an indignant noise and fished around the couch for his remote. Watching TV was making him care more than he wanted at the moment. Feeling nothing was more aligned with his agenda for the day. He clicked the remote to change the channel.

"This is breaking news coverage of the massive protest taking place outside Lengsel, the Asgardian refugee camp in California." His TV squawked against a flashing red background, much to his displeasure. "This is the third large scale protest organized by the alt-right's Nativists."

It was always something urgent, always a crisis. Time Warner must be making a killing, he thought wryly as he tipped his glass to his lips.

The TV screen panned to an aerial shot of a crowd holding up various signs and chanting. "There is not yet violence reported within the crowd," the blonde news anchor announced, "But the tone of this protest is certainly public anger. Our own Adrian O'Brien who is on the ground outside of Lengsel. Can you give us some details?"

Tony squinted at the blonde woman on the screen trying to remember which one she was. They all looked the same to him now, all shadows to the same person. Beautiful, pale, serious, impeccable.  _Like someone else he knew._

"Poppy, as you can see behind me, these citizens are very angry about the refugee situation." The reporter was walking quickly at the edge of the crowd, pointing to the people shouting behind him. When he passed a man with a massive sign over his head, he stopped to ask, "What are you here to protest, sir?"

A large, overweight man in green pulled down his sign which read 'Get off our planet!' and turned to the reporter. His large beard shook as he yelled into the microphone, "It's not safe with these aliens here, I saw what they can do. They need to go back where they came from!"

"But their planet was destroyed, where should they go?" The reporter pressed.

"Anywhere! We have enough problems in this country without them. We can't be spending all our hard-earned tax dollars on these good for nothings. They don't contribute, they're just taking advantage of us!" The man shouted, shaking his sign in front of him to emphasize his point.

The screen suddenly panned to one of the camp's towers. The camera zoomed in on two figures standing on the top floor, watching the protest outside. One of them stood with his arms folded. The other had his hands braced on the railing, as if he would launch himself off the tower at any minute. Tony didn't have to see him closer to know who it was.

Thor. Poor guy.

"Sucks to suck, point break," he said, muttering to himself. It was admittedly petty, but nonetheless it did make him feel a little better to see someone else suffer. He never claimed he was generous soul.

His doorbell rang.

No chance, he was not going to answer. Everyone could go fuck themselves.

It rang again.

Tony picked up the remote and turned up the volume. The sound of protesters screaming filled the room, drowning out other sounds. Staring at the screen, he tried to ignore all else.

"You look like shit, Tony," someone shouted.

He jerked in surprise and turned to see a familiar figure standing behind him, head shaking in disapproval. Damn it, he should have never given Rhodes a key to the house.

"So quick with the flattery—"

His friend sat down on the couch beside him and snatched the remote from his hand to turn the television off. Silence enveloped them, and Tony instantly felt uncomfortable with the vast nothing of his house. It all ate at his heart in a way no physical shrapnel could. If only he'd gotten more furniture, some fish or art, just to eat up the emptiness. But all he had was his drink, and so he finished the glass with a wince.

"Tony, you have got to pull yourself together. It's been eight months. You should get some help." Rhodes grabbed the empty glass from his hand and set it down on the coffee table. Glass on glass clatter echoed around the under-furnished room.

"I'm fine." Tony got up and stumbled toward the bar. He was such a moron, he didn't deserve to have any help. It hurt too much to even get the motivation to get up. All he could do was put off facing his failures for another day.

"They're disbanding the Avengers."

"I figured."

Rhodes gave a soft sigh and strode to his side. A confused look crossed Tony's unshaven face when his friend grabbed the bottle of whisky from his hand. His reaction time was too slow to grab it back. Rhodes put the glass bottle far away out of reach. "You need to quit drinking, Tony."

"You don't know what I need." He hissed in response, suddenly angry that someone would be so presumptuous. How could lecture like he understood. No one knew.

Ever patient, Rhodes set a kind hand on his shoulder and offered, "Look, I'm sorry about Pepper. But she wouldn't want to see you like this."

Tony turned to look at him, eyes haunted and exhausted. He let out a shaky breath. No she wouldn't; Pepper would hate it if she knew he was wallowing in his own self pity. In the deafening silence, he could almost hear her admonishment that he was wasting his life. It would break her heart to see him disheveled and listless, alive but acting dead. Too bad Pepper  _was_  dead.

Dead people didn't have feelings.

Rhodes seemed to sense his thoughts. "If not for her then for yourself. That dream of yours to go to space? I've got some intel on something you're going to want to get in on. You can finally quit saying Elon's eating your lunch."

The only thing that betrayed his reaction was a subtle stiffening of his back.

Tony looked out of the glass at the wide cloudless blue of the California sky. So endless he could lose himself in its infinite arms. All that he cared for was gone and there was nothing on this hostile planet left to keep him from drifting away. If would be a dream to float upward into the ether. He couldn't take his eyes off the expanse, not even when he replied.

"What's the mission?"

 

*

 

Loki surveyed the crowd of protesters outside from a watch tower. They were all along the west side of the sprawling camp for the second day in a row, chanting and screeching through those white plastic trumpets he'd learned were called megaphones. It felt clear to him that hostility was innate to their condition. If it wasn't Asgardians, it would have been something else. Mortals were strange and petty in that way. They were simple creatures that could never recognize what they truly wanted.

"I don't understand." His brother's voice was full of frustration.

Loki spared him a glance and replied, "It's not difficult. They clearly don't want us here."

Lightning brewed in his blue eye as Thor slammed a fist down on the railing. Hairline fractures split through the wood. "I don't understand why no one will help us. Why won't Vanaheim—they are our greatest allies."

"Because they don't want the same civil unrest. Everyone wants to be your ally when you are strong, but no one likes to be a friend to the weak," Loki explained simply. It was the most elementary concept he'd ever come across. His brother gritted his teeth and gripped the tower railing so hard that he was close to breaking it. But he didn't seem to be listening. Perhaps someone so used to adoration simply could not fathom being unwanted.

"I have to go out there. I can settle this."

"No," Loki pronounced as he placed a restraining hand on Thor's arm, "You'll only feed their fears."

Thor brushed his hand away and said nothing. Fuming to himself, the king balled his hands into fists. It must have taken all his restraint to stand still. What spoke of his desperation the most was the tightening of his jaw. Loki had come to expect as much. The pressure of guiding so many in such trying times had stolen much of his brother's spirit. Being a king was not such a gift.

"Come, Thor, we must go or we'll be late for the contract signing. Finding a new realm for relocation is more important than worrying about this one."

Reluctantly, Thor tore his gaze away from the crowds and followed him down the stairs.

 

*

 

Bruce Banner was already waiting in the makeshift conference room with the lawyers from the Department of Defense. Next to the lawyers' pristine gray suits, his casual t-shirt and khakis felt distinctly under-dressed. Just as he folded his arms and tried to downplay the obvious optics, the door to the FEMA trailer opened and Thor walked in with Loki and the Valkyrie trailing behind him.

"Looks like we're all here." Bruce announced, trying to dispel some of the tension in the room.

One of the lawyers stood up and passed around a thick packet of papers to each person. He straightened his suit jacket and closed the top button before he began to speak. "The expedition scope is set to three planetoid objects with the goal of relocating the Asgaridan population. I don't think we need to go through the details again. High level, you will supply the vehicle and staff, Dr. Banner will supply the exploration plan, and we will supply the fuel. We've agreed to all the redlines on our end."

Loki leaned over to whisper something in Thor's ear. The room stopped and turned their attention to them. With a nod, Thor gestured for the lawyer to continue.

As if suddenly nervous, the man ran a hand through his well-groomed, graying hair. "Once you have signed, we'll begin the installation of the payload you have agreed to carry. As negotiated, when the payload is loaded, we will provide you with fuel for the mission. Your signature states you are agreeing to this arrangement and to the data collection requirements."

"When do we leave?" The valkyrie interrupted the meeting, too impatient to read the tiny print in her paper packet.

The lawyer hesitated. "A proposed timeline is in your materials. We have left the final dates floating to accommodate unknowns in the development process."

Thor's eyes flashed with irritation when he could not understand the words. "When do we leave?" he repeated the valkyrie's question.

"The estimate is in nine months. We still have to finish building the satellites and telescopes you are to carry," the man replied.

"Nine months?" he made an incredulous noise. They did not have the luxury of so much time. Chaos was erupting within and around the camp everyday. "That's longer than we agreed to last time. It's unacceptable. We need to go sooner. Nine months plus the length of the journey there and back is too long. You yourself see what is happening outside. Our people cannot wait that long."

"It's only a projection. We can probably get you there sooner," Bruce offered weakly, trying break the animosity in the room.

Suddenly, the door opened and slammed against the wall behind it. The thunk of the handle against flimsy drywall jolted the entire room. Everyone turned to stare at the doorway, eyes glued to the two people who stood there. Tony Stark casually strolled in and took off his sunglasses while James Rhodes closed the door behind him.

The room seemed to shrink as though his very presence were taking up all the oxygen. Without any self-consciousness, he slumped into the nearest empty chair and swinging back and forth. He spoke with ease as if he were the one hosting the meeting. "I'm disappointed, point break. You have a meeting this important and didn't invite me?"

Bruce was the first to speak. "Tony, this is none of your business."

"Oh no, it's all my business now." Tony pointed to the lawyers and waved them toward the door. Confused, they merely sat still, eyes darting around the room. "You boys should take a hike. They're not going to sign anything with you."

"Stark—"

"Here's the rundown, guys," Tony began, unfazed, "We're going to make a new deal. You need money, I have money. You're going up there, I want to go with you. So let's cut the man out of this one and make it between us. And come on, let's face it, you need friends and I'm your friend."

"This is not a game, Stark." Thor warned.

Tony rolled his seat up to the table and placed his elbows on the table. "I'm not playing, _your majesty_. I'm serious about my offer. I will personally fund this expedition if you allow me to go with you. No fussy paperwork. No one telling you where and when you have to go. We go whenever you're ready."

The room grew quiet. Tony could tell the valkyrie was ready to shake on it. She was practically jumping out of her seat. Bruce Banner looked panicked. Thor, he couldn't read, for he was too far lost in thought. And Loki, the only one who did not betray any sign of his thoughts, plainly stared back at him, forcing him to quickly look away.

"We have an agreement already—" Loki said coldly.

"No," Thor cut him off brusquely, "This meeting is over. I want to consider my friend's offer."

"So you're not signing…" the head lawyer stammered, still bewildered at the turn of events.

"Thank you for your time," Thor said curtly.

Bruce leaned against the wall beside Rhodes and shook his head. "Jesus, Rhodes, I borrow one measly satellite from you…"

"Sorry Dr. Banner," he whispered back, genuinely apologetic, "If it's worth anything I really believe he needs this."

The lawyers awkwardly shook hands and collected their papers before shuffling out the door. The room seemed to chill several degrees without them. Those left in the room stared at each other, trying to read each other and decide where they all stood.

"So—" Tony began, leaning back in his chair and placing his feet on the table. He took out a flask from his pocket and took a drink. "When do we take off?"

Thor remained silent, contemplating something with a great deal care. When he finally spoke, there was a storm of conflict in his clear eye. "We must to decide who will go. The scouting ship has only enough room for two."

Brow furrowed, Loki turned to his brother and hissed through his teeth, "You can't be serious. We can't trust him. Look at him, he's— "

"I'll go," the valkyrie volunteered. She didn't spare Tony even a glance; her answer was only for Thor.

"No, obviously I should go. I'm clearly the better pilot," Loki quickly added, abandoning his previous argument. He could see it in Thor's face that he'd already decided to accept the offer at hand. The way he held his hand under his chin was how he always sat when he'd settled already and was just trying to rationalize it to himself. Such a stubborn fool...

"He's too much of a flight risk, Thor. He'll take this opportunity to run." She wasn't going to let this one go easily. Loki was simply not worthy in her eyes.

"No, brother. Look at her, she is too impulsive for such a sensitive task." Loki countered.

Not one to spare any feelings, the valkyrie spat out, "You're a coward, Loki. We can't set our hopes on a child who would rather run than fight."

"And you are a drunk. We can't put the future of an entire people with someone who may drink herself to death on the way," he shot back at her, words dripping with venom. 

"You take that back!"

She lunged at him from her seat, only to be caught by Thor. He held her back with all of his strength so tightly that she could hardly move. She suppressed the urge to elbow her way out and beat the daylights out of that snake he called brother.  He released the warrior from his grasp when she stilled.

"Enough!" Thor roared, causing all parties to freeze.

"I have decided," he announced, calm and steady.

The room all seemed to lean forward, straining to hear his next words.

"Loki will go with Tony Stark."

Tony's gaze snapped up toward Loki across the room in surprise.  _Not him._ When their eyes met across the table, it was like looking into a nova, drowning out all else. Loki gave the smallest of cruel smiles, as if to taunt him. There was something in the madness of his eyes that paralyzed Tony. Unsettling, alluring, terrifying, arresting.

He couldn't quite find a word that could describe the feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was inspired by the frightening social and political world of today. I want to write it grounded in the times so I’ve referenced a lot of real events.
> 
> References:  
> 1\. Municipal debt situation mirrors what is happening in Puerto Rico  
> 2\. The protests are parallel to right-wing discontent toward the Syrian refugee crisis  
> 3\. Tony is watching CNBC (David Faber & Jim Cramer) and CNN (Poppy Harlow)  
> 4\. Elon’s eating his lunch, as in Elon Musk of SpaceX getting to space before him. The similarity between Tony Stark and the real life technologist millionaire are too close to not mention :)


	2. Preparations

The electrodes on his chest itched.

"Looks like you are developing atrial fibrillation," the cardiologist said as she inspected traces on her screen. "I'm going to prescribe you some blood thinners just to be safe."

Tony raised his head to look at the spikes of his heart's unsteady electrical rhythm and rolled his eyes. It had to be something— age and treachery were finally catching up to him. This wasn't something he could shrug off. The heart was not like an appendix or tonsils, it was the core of a human body. If it broke down, the linchpin of his life would be gone. He could replace it with an artificial one, but it wouldn't be the same. It wouldn't flutter when he was nervous. It wouldn't generate the soup of sensation that powered emotion. He'd been glib in the past about the thought of oldness, of tissue and blood falling apart, but this was an inch too close. His own father had died before having experienced any of this.

"It is very common, but if you experience any arrhythmia, we may need to schedule a cardioversion to resolve it," she explained as she kept her eyes on the computer screen.

He scrunched his face upon hearing the unpleasant sounding words, "What does that mean? Is that like a pacemaker?"

"Oh no, nothing so serious. It's just a very quick outpatient procedure where we stop the heart and restart it, under anesthesia of course. Being awake when it happens can be...uncomfortable," she continued, writing some notes down in his chart and clicking through the electronic order form to prescribe the necessary medications.

Tony clasped his hands over his stomach, tracing the scar where the arc reactor used to be. A strange thought played in his mind as he contemplated the idea. "You mean, like restarting a computer? Just power down and up again?"

"You could say that," the doctor replied, the stiffness in her tone not quite in agreement with his analogy.

He raised an eyebrow at her hesitation and asked, "I'm leaving for a long trip in a week. Is this going to be a problem with traveling?"

"That's wonderful, trips are great for chilling out. If you take your medication as scheduled, you'll be fine. Where are you going?"

She'd certainly respond poorly if she only knew. "It's kind of far, this distant, exotic, secluded place where no one's really been," he vaguely side-stepped the truth, "You wouldn't have heard of it."  _It's just space._

"Best of luck then," she said as she finished typing.

Frowning at the phrasing, he sat up unhappily. Best of luck? That was what people said when they weren't sure you were going to be alright, when there was a high chance that things wouldn't turn out quite as hoped. It was the kind of weak fake smile nurses gave people when they went into surgeries they may not come out of. Only the desperate needed luck.

"Yeah, thanks doc," he murmured back and he put his shirt back on.

  


*

  


"Why did you choose him?"

Thor kept walking, ignoring the insistent questioning of the Valkyrie. She'd been livid ever since their meeting.

"I'm talking to you!" she shouted as he picked up the pace and rounded the corner of a block of temporary housing. He felt a hard jab in his back from a rock she'd thrown and finally stopped. This childishness had to stop.

"I do not need you questioning my judgement, Brunnhilde. Please trust me on this," he declared, trying his best to keep his temper in check. There were enough problems to deal with without getting into a fight with her.

She clenched her hands in fists and fiercely stared him down. "Then explain it to me. You know he's a coward. He'll run. Explain how this is supposed to help us."

A long sigh slipped from Thor's lips. He turned his good eye on her, the conflict in brewing inside him clearly bleeding into its clearest blue. There were a million reasons that he couldn't explain. Something deep inside him had whispered to him that it was better choice. It is what his mother would have done. It felt right; it was right.

"Do you have siblings?"

She furrowed her brow in confusion. "What does that matter?"

"You wouldn't understand if you don't."

"That's a lazy answer," she accused, kicking up the dusty clay of the dry california desert.

Running a hand through his hair, Thor turned over how to explain such a complicated problem. "Loki is restless here," he began, "The difficulty of our crisis does not suit him. It is only a matter of time before he grows bored enough to create trouble. We cannot afford the gamble of keeping him here."

She steeled her eyes at his words, parsing the meaning through quiet skepticism. Loki was the better diplomat; he enjoyed living within conflict. Thor's words made no sense. When she did not reply, Thor turned and began walking again. Something about the slope of his shoulders did not sit well with her. He was lying. The Valkyrie grabbed his arm roughly and stopped him mid-step. He jerked his head around and looked at her in surprise.

The wounded way he held himself confirmed her suspicion.

"I can't believe this. You don't intend for him to return. You want him to run," she whispered, the realization dawning on her. "You've given up. You don't believe this plan will work."

Thor did not reply. He didn't have to. The guilt within his eye said enough. She didn't know whether to feel horrified or impressed.

"You are trying to save him by sending him away."

  


*

  


The hanger where the cargo ship resided was an old warehouse with the roof raised by tin sheets to accommodate the spacecraft's immense height. The construction on it was by no means sound. Corrugated metal shuddered in the rain and the gaps between sheets whistled when the wind blew. But it was the best they could do with no humanitarian aid.  


Loki laid on the ground under the primary engine of the tiny exploration shuttle, his hands covered in machine grease from replacing the reactor chamber. A gust of wind howled through the hanger and scattered a layer of grit into his eye. Perhaps he should work on the pipes today since they were inside. He brushed his eyes with the back of his hand and inadvertently left a large smudge on his temple. When his eyes remained irritated, he slid out from under the vessel.

"Looks like you're in the middle of something," a glib voice called out to him.

Loki squinted at the figure standing over him, eyes still watering from the dust. He could make out the distinct form of Tony Stark, glancing down with hands shoved in his pockets. The difference in their appearance was comical. Him, covered in black grease and brown dust, rumpled on the ground. Stark, pristine and formal in his sunglasses and white seersucker suit.

"We don't leave for another two weeks. Why are you here?" Loki got to the point, his words clipped and simple. He sat up and got to his feet. The obvious height difference between them played to his delight as he towered over the mortal.

"I thought I'd come get to see the thing I'm supposedly going to spend my life in for the next indefinite number of days," Tony replied easily as he removed his sunglasses.

"Well, here it is, marvelous, isn't it?" Loki remarked sarcastically.

Tony chewed on the end of the sunglasses as he looked over the ship. It was not exactly what he'd expected. He'd thought it would be more, well, aerodynamic than the box it was. A funny thought struck him: this seemed the minivan version of a ship. He inched closer to the vessel and casually inquired, "What are you working on?"

"I do not seek your assistance," Loki returned sharply, cutting to the point to prove he had no patience for the back and forth game.

"Look," Tony waved his sunglasses in a halting gesture. "I'm going to be in this box with you for god knows how long. I have to trust this thing isn't going to fall apart halfway there." He proceed to tuck the sunglasses in his pocket and remove his jacket. Loki raised an eyebrow as he watched Tony throw the jacket over a stool carelessly and unbutton his shirt sleeves to roll them up. Rubbing his chin, the man walked all around the ship and bent down to inspect the large hole in its lower side where the first engine sat.

"So, tell me about this lemon. What's this engine run on?"

The only answer he received was the dismissive look Loki threw over as if the mere audacity of him asking such a question were laughable.

"I fail to see how you are to contribute. You mortals are not space faring. You have no knowledge of what we require," Loki replied coldly, turning away and preparing to return to his work. When he caught the sight of Tony reaching toward the tool chest from the corner of his eye, he mocked, "Careful, Tony Stark, you might spoil your lovely white clothes."

"I'm touched by your concern. Luckily, I never cared for this suit anyway," Tony shot back, picking up a grease-covered wrench to prove his point, "and Bambi, I know it's hard for you to wrap your enormously large ego around this, but you don't scare me."  _Actually, you sort of do_ , the nagging voice in his head whined.

Taking advantage of the pause between then, Tony tried to steer their conversation back to the ship. "This thing runs on uranium, doesn't it? You're going to need more shielding than this if you don't want it to cook us alive," he supplied, pointing at the nuclear reactor at the heart of the engine.

Loki stopped and tilted his head in the slightest way as he regarded Tony, bright eyes narrowing in thought. The way his teeth cut against his lip in a light smirk foreshadowed the self-satisfied tone with which he spoke. "That may be an astute observation, Tin man," he sneered, "But let us be clear. I know what you are. I have met many of your kind, and your petty display of knowledge does not impress me."

"What kind would that be? Geniuses? Because really, I'm flattered." Tony was too busy trying to decipher the intention of being called Tin man to think of anything better.

Throwing his long hair over his shoulder so it did not fall in the way, Loki shrugged. He leaned against the ship's metallic frame and said with condescending, slow deliberation, "It appears I was overly generous to think it obvious to you. Let us see, how shall I put it? Ah— you can play pretend that you are anything your feeble heart imagines, but at the end of the day, you're just a man in a room with a pile of gold."

 _You're worthless without your name and money._ That last bit hit closer than home than Tony had expected. He tapped his chin in thought, trying to keep his face from betraying the way the Asgardian had unnerved him. The words spun in his mind, fighting the self-control that was trying to push them down. It would not do to show his displeasure and back down.

When he sensed the lingering shadow of discomfort, Loki gave a small, wordless smile at his victory and ducked into the ship to begin working on the inside and avoid the dust. Laying down on the floor of the tiny engine room, he slid under the cooling pipes that chilled the reactors. He had about a million valves to fix on this old rubbish bin. Just as he loosened the first port, he felt someone slide beside him into the tight space on the right.

"And here I was, operating under the impression from those horns that you had a thing for gold," Tony supplied when Loki glared at him from mere inches away, clearly annoyed by the sudden invasion of his personal space.

"Do you have a death wish, Stark?"

Tony flashed a winning smile in reply. He was going on a half-baked mission to the edges of the universe with a heart that was beginning to wear down. If that wasn't a death wish, he wasn't sure what was.

They both laid still for a moment, participating in a wordless exchange of expressions. Each dared the other to say something to tilt the power equation between them that had just reached equilibrium. Every tensing of the eye was consequential, signalling the potential of yielding ground. In the end, it was the ship who decided for them, unleashing a drip of dark coolant from the open port between them that splashed on both of their faces.

Both men winced against the offensive fluid and rushed out from under the pipes to clear their eyes. Tony scoffed as he wiped the sludge-like material on this shirt sleeves; it only served to spread a dark smear over his forehead. Loki didn't fare much better, the dots of brown fluid blending into his hairline as he tried in vain to clean the right side of his face. He took a look at Tony and began to laugh.

"Wait until you see yourself," Tony muttered with resentment, still trying to rub off the filmy sensation and feeling entirely ridiculous.

"One can only imagine."

Now that his shirt was officially ruined, might as well get to work. Tony fished out the pair of pliers he'd shoved into his pocket and kicked the box of valves toward pipes. "Come on, Bambi. This piece of shit will get fixed twice as fast if I do it with you. You're going to want me to know how this stuff works in case it breaks and you're too busy planning world domination to care."

"What is that?"

He cocked an eyebrow as he got back down on the floor. "What is what?"

"Bambi. I'm not familiar with the Midgardian term."

Tony's lips curled into a mischievous grin as he gazed up at the undignified mess of what was supposed to be a god. So that Tin man comment had just been a coincidence. Not so clever after all.

"It is—" he fished around for the right term, "a creature— from a story that frequently makes children cry."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, I just love writing powertalk with many layers of intentions and meanings. Luckily that is the only language Tony and Loki are willing to speak.


End file.
